Chapter 4: Use Your Imagination

The living room of the executive suite was larger than Ban Ban had imagined, with floor-to-ceiling windows covering an entire wall.

She stood in the middle of the room, her toes sinking into the thick carpet. She looked down at her burgundy cocktail dress, then up at Wen Ting’an, who stood by the window undoing his cuff links.

“Where am I sleeping?”

His hands paused. He turned and looked at her for two seconds, a hint of a smile curving his lips. “What do you think?”

Ban Ban blinked and gave the matter serious thought.

She had glanced around on the way in: one bedroom door, one study door, and a sofa in the living room that wasn’t long enough to sleep on.

She looked at the half-open bedroom door, then at Wen Ting’an, turning the matter over in her mind. They were legally married now, husband and wife in everyone else’s eyes. There was no need to be overly reserved.

“Oh.” She nodded. “I understand.”

Wen Ting’an watched her walk toward the bedroom. She paused at the door, glanced back at him, then went inside.

The door didn’t quite close. Through the gap, he saw her kick off her heels and fall onto the bed, sinking into the covers without even changing out of her dress.

He smiled, shook his head and went into the study.

His laptop was open, with more than a dozen unread emails. He sat down, rolled his shirt sleeves halfway up his forearms and began dealing with them one by one.

The group was negotiating an acquisition, and there were disputed clauses in a contract from the legal team. He went through them, marking the passages that needed changing in red.

Time passed quickly. By the time he answered the last email, the sky outside had deepened from gray-blue to black. There were no stars over Jiang City, only lights flickering in countless windows.

Ting’an rubbed the back of his neck, stood and stretched his shoulders and back, then left the study for the living room.

The lights were still on. His gaze drifted toward the bedroom. The door was still ajar, and it was dark inside.

He went over and gently pushed it open.

The blackout curtains were half drawn. City lights filtered through, casting blurred bands across the floor. The patch of burgundy on the bed stood out in the dimness: Ban Ban lay curled on her side at the very edge, half a turn away from falling off.

Her hair spread across the pillow, its softly curled ends fanning out in dark chestnut. Half her skirt hung over the edge of the bed, revealing a length of fair calf.

Her face was buried in the pillow, only half her profile visible. Her lashes lay against her cheeks, and traces of the lipstick she hadn’t properly removed had smudged a little.

Ting’an stood beside the bed and looked down at her, overcome by a feeling he couldn’t quite name.

She looked like a doll. Not a delicate, slender Western doll, but one of the plump, lucky children on a New Year print, round-faced and fair, sleeping without a care.

He remembered her standing in the sunshine in this red dress that afternoon, bright-eyed and red-lipped. Her carefully applied makeup had made her look grown-up, but asleep now, she looked her age again: a twenty-one-year-old girl.

He stood there for a long time.

From today on, he realized, he would be living with her. Under the same roof, eating meals together, sleeping… His gaze fell on her curled-up figure, and his head began to ache.

Would he feel guilty when they were intimate as husband and wife?

He was twelve years older. When he graduated from university, she had still been in elementary school. When he started his first company, she’d only just entered middle school. And the women he’d been with over the years…

He frowned and pushed the jumble of thoughts away. She was so small. Would holding her in his arms feel any different from holding a child?

He gave a rueful smile.

He’d once enjoyed being on his own, drinking when he pleased and coming home whenever he liked. Now he inexplicably had someone following along behind him. Looking down at the red bundle fast asleep on the bed, he thought this new shadow of his was quite capable of sleeping.

“Ban Ban.”

She didn’t move.

“Ban Ban,” he called again, a little louder.

The red bundle finally stirred. She rolled over sleepily, opening her eyes a crack. Her unfocused gaze took two seconds to settle on his figure standing against the light.

She woke a little more, propped herself on an elbow and sat up, her hair a mess. “Wh-what is it?”

He stepped back half a pace. “I’m going out for a drink.”

She blinked, still not quite awake. “Oh.”

“I’ve ordered you dinner. Remember to answer the door.” He gestured toward the living room. “The front desk will send it up shortly.”

Ban Ban looked at him, slowly absorbing the information. He was going out for a drink. He’d ordered her dinner. He was leaving now.

“You’re going out drinking now?” she asked.

“Yes.” He picked up the jacket draped over the chair. “Any objections?”

She shook her head instinctively. “None.” She covered a yawn with her hand. “Didn’t you say at lunch that you couldn’t drink because you had to pack?”

His hand paused as he put on his jacket. She was looking at him earnestly, her newly awakened eyes moist and still a little dazed.

Without a change of expression, he said, “I packed while you were asleep.”

She nodded blankly. “Oh.”

He said no more and headed out. In the living room he glanced back. Ban Ban was still sitting on the bed, her hair like a bird’s nest, her red dress wrinkled, staring bewilderedly after him.

He turned away, opened the door and left.

Once it closed, Ban Ban lay back down. This time she couldn’t sleep. She took out her phone and saw a WeChat message from her sister at the top of the list.

“Ban Ban, you must be tired. Get some rest early. Call me anytime if you need anything.”

Smiling, she typed back: “I’m rested. Just woke up,” followed by a yawning sticker.

She held the phone in front of her and scrolled for a while. The light on the screen flickered as her thoughts wandered.

A few days ago she’d been the Ban family’s younger daughter, with no responsibilities. Now she had a husband. He was extraordinarily handsome, though a little quiet and a little too fond of women.

She placed her phone face down beside the pillow and stared at the ceiling.

The bar on the hotel’s first floor was a quiet lounge, dimly lit, with jazz playing softly. Wen Ting’an sat at the far end of the counter with a whiskey, the ice slowly melting in his glass.

He drank alone, his long fingers tracing the rim and sliding along the side of the glass.

His phone vibrated several times. He opened WeChat to find a group chat with his friends in an uproar.

“Young Master Wen, isn’t tonight your wedding night? Online already? Finished?”

“What’s the little wife look like? Send us a picture.”

“I hear she’s only twenty-one. Going for a much younger wife, aren’t you, Ting’an?”

“Beast.”

Watching the messages appear one after another, Ting’an tugged at the corner of his mouth. He tipped back half his drink, the amber liquid warming his throat.

He thought for a moment, then typed: “Use your imagination.”

The group fell quiet for two seconds, then erupted even more loudly.

“What does that mean? No picture, no story!”

“We can’t imagine it! Describe her!”

“Is she especially beautiful? Otherwise, why would you agree to marry her?”

Ting’an placed his phone face down on the bar and stopped looking. He ordered another drink, finished it quietly, paid and got up.

When he returned to the suite, the living-room light was still on. A warming cover sat on the coffee table, the hotel’s untouched dinner beneath it.

He glanced toward the bedroom. The door was at the same angle as when he’d left, and it was quiet inside. She was probably asleep again.

He didn’t disturb her. Instead he opened the balcony door. Jiang City’s damp night air met his face. He sat back by the railing, took out his cigarette case and flicked one free.

When the flame lit, he leaned his head against the chair and breathed out a long stream of smoke. It slowly dissolved into the dark night.

Then he took his phone from his inner suit pocket and scrolled through his contacts until he stopped on a name. It was a woman’s, saved under a single character. He looked at it for two seconds, then swiped and deleted it.

When the cigarette burned down, he stubbed it out in the ashtray and went into the bathroom. He stood under the hot water for a long time with his eyes closed.

Steam spread through the room and fogged the mirror. After drying his hair, he changed into pajamas and went into the bedroom.

The bedside lamp was on, and Ban Ban had changed. Her burgundy dress lay folded on the chair. She now wore a pale pink cotton nightdress with a ruffled neckline and a cartoon bear printed on the front.

The radiant young woman in red lipstick and a French-style dress had curled up beneath the covers and become youthful-looking again. Her baby-soft cheek was squashed against the pillow, her breathing steady and deep.

Ting’an stood by the bed for two seconds, then lifted the covers and lay down. The bed was large. He deliberately kept to the far edge, leaving a pillow’s width between them. He switched off the lamp, and the room went dark.

Before closing his eyes, he listened to her slow, gentle breathing. It had been a long time since he’d heard such a sound. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d shared a bed with someone. Women had come and gone these past few years, but he’d never let anyone stay the night.

He closed his eyes and was just about to fall asleep when a hand landed on his chest.

It was light, almost weightless, an unconscious movement in her sleep. Her hand was small and fair, its neatly rounded nails a healthy pink.

He opened his eyes. In the dark he couldn’t see her face, but her hand rested over his heart, its warmth reaching him through his thin pajama top.

He didn’t move. He didn’t take it away, either.

He lay there with his wife’s small hand on his chest and quietly closed his eyes.